Suspire
by Chaos Terror Destruction
Summary: She was alone, her parents dead, being tossed from foster home to foster home. A happenstance meeting leads to an adoption, and what? A mysterious psychiatrist? A missing billionaire? Kristen did not sign up for this.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N ****So I'm back. I re-wrote the story, Added a title, I didn't get a beta, mainly because... well, just cause. Please, please tell me what you think of this wonderfully re-written story just for you! :D **

**Oh! BTW, this used to be _Insert Title Here_. So, Yeah. **

Chapter 1

The silence was deafening. I didn't say anything, he didn't say anything. I never said anything. He sighed. Then the silence was back again.

"I never knew what happened to my father." I all but whispered, my head down. My dark brown hair covering my face. I could feel his eyes on me. Those piercing blue eyes. I held my jean-clad legs against my chest. I tilted my head slightly towards him. I could see him through my veil of hair. Dr. Jonathon Crane, my psychiatrist. Alfred had sent me to him about 8 months ago. This was the first time I was telling him anything. I hardly ever talked. Alfred Pennyworth was my adoptive father. He was old, British, and the kindest guy you would ever meet. He did have his rules though.

"Tell me about him." He said his face betraying no emotion.

I shook my head. It was still painful to talk about. Dr. Crane nodded, and stood up to leave. I followed him with my eyes on his way out. Just before he got to the door, I began to speak.

"He was tall, about 6'2"." Dr. Crane froze, then turned around to look at me, surprise evident for a second, then it was gone. "He had brown hair like mine; I got my eyes from my mother. His eyes were brown. I got my skin tone from him." I looked down at my olive-toned arms. He nodded, then sat down, gesturing for me to continue. I laid my cheek down on my knees, caught up in the memories.

"My father was a fun loving man. He was always happy. Always. I have no bad memories of my father. Everything I had known him as, was happy, optimistic, there was not a bad bone in his body." I stopped. I felt the pricking between my eyes. I knew I was close to tears. I turned my head down again. I didn't want to look into Crane's stone cold eyes.

"What about your mother?" He said, his voice impassive.

"My mother was a drunk. She skipped town the day after I was born. She didn't care about me." I said, bitterness seeping into my tone. I clenched my jaw. I looked up at him again. His face showed no emotion, it rarely did. "My father had always taken care of me. He took me to work as a baby, and a toddler. When I was old enough to go to school, he put me in the best school he could find. I was always Daddy's little girl." I smiled a small smile at the thought.

"What happened to your father?" He asked, his voice showing no emotion as well.

"He disappeared on my 15th birthday. It was a Friday." I clammed up at that. I could feel the tears going down my cheeks. Dr. Crane gestured for me to continue, I shook my head. I couldn't.

He nodded, then stood up and left. An orderly walked in with my coat. A young blonde woman, looked about 23, with bright blue eyes and a contagious smile. I gave her a small smile.

"Come on dear," She said in a sugar sweet voice, "Your father's waiting for you." I nodded then stood up. She lead me to the waiting area where Alfred was waiting patiently for me. He lead me to the car. The drive uptown was silent.

"As I woke the morning of my birthday, I was considerably gloomier than usual, as if my body knew this was the last day I would see my father. I went through my morning routine almost robotically. I was not entirely conscious of what I was doing." I sighed, then continued.

"When I got home from school, the day he disappeared, he wasn't there. He sometimes wasn't, but he got off work before I got home. To be able to get off early, he was usually at work before I woke up. Whenever he wasn't home, he would always leave a note, telling me where he was, or when he going to be home. But not that day." I shook my head. "I waited, for almost 2 days. He never came home. His company called, wondering why he hadn't shown up for work. I didn't know what to tell them."

"After almost a week, I grabbed whatever cash I could find, and got on a bus. I didn't know where the bus would take me. I didn't care. Without my father, I had nothing. I didn't want to tell the police. They would send me to my mother, if she was even still alive. If she wasn't, I would go to a foster home. I didn't want that. I had only heard bad things about foster homes. Somehow the police found out anyway. 2 days after I left, they found me. I had ended up in Chicago. They took me to Social Services. They couldn't find my mother for months. They put me in foster home after foster home for almost a year. No one wanted to keep me. They always said that I was too anti-social, or too dark, or things to that effect. I was almost 16 by the time they found her, dead, a Jane Doe in a morgue in New York." I stopped, I was close to tears, I didn't want to talk about my father anymore.

"What happened after that?" He said, scribbling something down into his notebook.

"I was put into a couple more foster homes." I continued reluctantly. "Then finally I was put with Jackie, the nicest lady you will ever meet." I smiled a little, "She never thought I was too dark, or too anti-social, she thought I was little shy, but that was it. She never sent me back. She was the only one. I had this routine of wake, eat, school, eat, sleep. I never did anything. I never talked, I never had friends. Nothing. Some of the other foster kids were nice to me, but once we were out of Jackie's sight, that ended quick. Now, don't get me wrong, I like her, I just didn't want to stay." I shook my head, to caught up in my story to notice much of anything else. Dr. Crane was scribbling something about me down in his notebook. "The foster home was just out of town, close enough to get a bus to Gotham. And that's what I did. I skipped school one day and took a bus to Downtown Gotham." I smiled grimly.

"I had little money, just enough for a bus ride and back, not that I was planning on going back. That's the day I met Alfred." My heart warmed a little at that thought. Just then an orderly came in. That same one as the week before. I still have to learn her name.

"I'm sorry for interrupting Dr. Crane, but some of the high risk patients are acting up again." She shrugged apologetically. Dr. Crane nodded then left.

She turned to me, "I'm going to get your coat, I'll be right back." She smiled, and turned to search and ended up walking away. Leaving the door open. I poked my head out, no one was there. My eyebrows knitted together, where was everyone? It was with that thought that I continued down the brightly lit corridor. There were no signs telling you where to go, no maps. Just hall after hall of white tiles and florescent lights. I turned a corner, expecting to see just another hallway. Boy, was I wrong. That's when I came face to face with what Arkham Asylum calls 'high-risk patients'.

**I do realize that I haven't said her name, also her psychiatric appointments are at Arkham Asylum, if you haven't guessed. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ****So, here's the second chapter, it's slightly shorter. Also, I would like to thank the awesome reviewers, I would name them, but I don't have the time right now, maybe later. Enjoy!**

Chapter 2

The Joker had been in Arkham for a year and a half. Plans for an escape had already begun forming in his mind after the second month. It was just so _boring_ in there. The white walls, the white lab coats, the endless group therapy sessions. Oh, the horror!

Now, the Joker is smarter than he looks, a lot smarter. This week's group therapy session had been especially boring, so he turned that tables on their psychiatrist, Dr. Robinson. The poor man was blubbering within 10 minutes.

After The Riddler knocked the good doctor out, the Joker grabbed the key to the door. On the trip down that hallway, a nurse saw the rag-tag gang of the high-risk zone. She called security, who in turn called Dr. Crane, the head psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum. They all were man-handled back into their cages, except for the Joker and Bane. None of the orderlies dared touch the Joker, they didn't know what he could have fashioned into a weapon, and Bane was, well, Bane. While most of the staff was trying to talk Bane into his cell, the Joker walked off, unnoticed, down the hallway.

Where he ran into a certain someone, _me._

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The Joker said with a smack of his lips, a sadistic smirk on his face. His scars pulled taught. His eyes roamed up and down my body.

My eyes widened. I tried to turn around and walk back the way I went, but a firm hand on my shoulder stopped any progress. My muscles tensed immediately.

"Now, darlin', I didn't say you could, ah, go." The scared man behind me tsked. The hand on my shoulder turn me around, I tried to avoid his eyes. I turned my head down, my heart pounding in my ears. A hand grabbed my chin, forcing my head up.

I looked frantically around, searching for anybody that could help. My mouth opened, I sucked a breath in to scream, and a hand stopped any sound from coming out of my mouth.

"Now, we wouldn't want anyone to interrupt us, now would we?" His voice whispered in my ear. He pushed me up against the wall with his body flush against mine. A tear threatened to fall from my eyes. I closed my eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else when a voice yelled from down the hall.

"Hey!" A familiar voice called, "Let go of her! Get back to your cell!" My eyes jerked open to see Dr. Crane walking swiftly down the hall, followed by two security guards. One tazed the Joker, and they carried him down the hall. Once the grip on my was gone, I fell to the floor. Quick reflexes on Crane's part kept me from hitting my head. He knelt down in front of me.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice. I nodded, "Good. Come on. Alfred's waiting for you. We'll talk about this at our next session." I nodded numbly.

Dr. Crane helped me to my feet. Once we were standing, my emotions got the better of me. Tears fell from my eyes, I wrapped my arms around my psychiatrist, burying my face in his black suit. I felt him tense up, then slowly relax a little, and put his hands on my shoulders. He pushed my gently, but firmly away.

I wiped my cheeks, "Thank you." I whispered. He nodded, then lead me down the hallway. We got to the front room where Alfred was waiting.

"Kristin! What happened?" My adoptive father asked when he saw my tear streaked face. "Is she okay?" He asked turning towards Dr. Crane.

"She a bit shaken up. She had a run-in with the Joker, but she'll be fine. I suggest letting her rest a bit." Dr. Crane stated emotionlessly. Alfred nodded.

"Of course." Crane nodded, then briskly walked away, not sparing a glance for me.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked me seriously as we walked to the car. I nodded.

"I'm fine." I told my guardian quickly, trying to avoid the conversation.

As per usual, the drive home was silent. We lived in a guest house on the Wayne estate. Since Alfred used to, and still technically does work there. Once a week, he goes up to the manor and checks to see if everything is well with the house.

The Wayne's had died years ago, and their only son, Bruce, goes to Princeton University in New Jersey. I've never met him, just heard a lot from Alfred. Supposedly he's coming home for the release trail of Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents. It's on Saturday. I don't think he should go though. Neither does Alfred, or Rachel for that matter. Rachel is Bruce's childhood friend, they've known each other for years. Must be nice.

I was pulled out of my reverie by Alfred shaking my shoulder tell me we were home. I walked slowly inside, it was cold, but I liked it. My birthday was in 6 days, on Sunday. I wasn't looking forward to it.

An hour later, dinner was on the table. I ate little, helped clean up then went to bed. It was one heck of a day. I went to sleep quickly, but it was restless, full of nightmares. I got little sleep that night.

The next few days passed quickly. Pretty soon it was Saturday. The day of the trial. I stayed in my room most of the day. Only coming out to meet Bruce, Alfred insisted. I heard them arguing while in the kitchen with Rachel.

Rachel was pretty, she had kind of a mousy look about her. I could tell Bruce liked her, and she liked him also. I watched their playful interaction from a bench against the east wall. Rachel looked at the time, the trial started soon. I took a deep breath, smiled slightly, and wished them good luck. They needed that, I don't think this was going to end well.

**Yay! A name! :) Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **_I'm sorry it took so long, like months really, but I just finished this yesterday, and was going to post it but the internet spazzed out. Now for the excuses for not posting it in past months, I was in summer school after school ended, mind you, I never failed anything in my life, I just wanted something to do with my summer, when that ended I went to EFY, and started work, by the time I found the willpower to finish this chapter, the internet was broken and got fixed this past week. So, sorry. Read on. _

**Chapter 3**

I had been right. It didn't end well. Bruce left Falcone's restaurant, and just disappeared. Rachel came to us in tears on Sunday morning, my 18th birthday, saying how it was her fault that Bruce went missing. Alfred was depressed, I could tell. He tried to hide it, but whenever he was sad, he cooked. We ate well that day. Doubly so, because it was my birthday. I mentioned my birthday was taboo, right?

I had my therapy session with Dr. Crane the next day. He was slightly more emotional than the week before. I burst into tears the moment he asked the first question.

"Kristen?" Dr. Crane asked warily. "Are you okay?" I shook my head.

"It's all my fault!" I wailed.

"What's your fault?" He asked confused.

"It's my fault that Bruce left. It was my birthday, and bad things always happen on my birthday. If the trial had been a week later, he wouldn't have left!" The rational side of my brain was telling me that none of this made sense, but it was quickly squashed by the small part of my brain that was overcome with emotion. "And Alfred's sad, and there's nothing I can do about it. And-" Dr. Crane cut me off.

"You do realize that none of that makes any sense, right?" I nodded miserably. I had thought this through, but for some reason I couldn't convince myself that it wasn't my fault. "Good. Now, what happened." I took a deep breath to calm myself, and then began.

"Bruce is gone. Poof! Disappeared. Rachel came and told us on Sunday, which by the way was my birthday. She was in tears for most of the day. He had given some hobo his coat, and stowed away on one of the Wayne Enterprise ships leaving the harbor. We don't know where he went, or what he's doing, or if he's even alive!" My voice rose as my anger built up. "Does he even know what he's doing to Alfred! Does he realize the impact this has on the people he left behind?"

Dr. Crane looked slightly confused, not at my explanation, but at my sudden mood change.

"What just happened? You went from hysterical to raging mad, in what, two minutes?" He looked incredulous. I sighed.

"Ignore it." I said offhandedly, "They happen all the time." Dr. Crane shook his head. I rolled my eyes, nudging my contact lens out of place, I blinked and shook my head in an effort to get it back in place.

"What was that?" Dr. Crane asked, sighing.

"I had to get my contact back into place." I answered. I could feel the tears coming back. These mood swings were getting old.

"You have contacts?" He asked, bewildered. "How come this isn't in your medical file?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. But I got one in my right eye. I have glasses also, but I only wear them when I have to take my contact out, or it falls out, and then I don't put it back in until I'm forced to. I hate it." I ended my ramble, nodding.

"Well, since I've been your doctor long enough to know that the typical psychology won't work with you, we're just going to talk." Dr Crane said, setting down his notebook and pen and leaning back. A thought struck me, I looked up pondering.

"I wonder if I have enough rotten bananas to make banana bread." I mused. "I don't know." I shrugged.

"Okay, 'Mood swings still present.'" He dictated to himself as he snatched up his notebook again.

My lower lip quivered. "I'm crazy, aren't I. Aren't I?" I burst into tears. Again.

Dr. Crane sighed. "No, you're not. Just emotionally overloaded. You'll be fine." I took a deep breath to get my head on straight. I nodded.

"Can I go now?" I asked quietly. He nodded. I stood up and the blonde orderly let me out.

My psychiatrist wasn't just my psychiatrist anymore. He was my friend, my confidant. I told him anything and everything. Eventually I was considered sane enough to not need weekly visits. I went twice a month. Every other Tuesday. Every time the blonde orderly was there. Her name was Dr. Harleen Quinnzel. She was on her residency, just a year left to go before she could get certified.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. I stared at the ceiling, not really looking at anything. Just, thinking.

I was pulled out of my reverie when Alfred walked into my bedroom. He looked at me still in bed, amused.

"Do you know what time it is?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Nope." I answered, "But I'm sure you're going to tell me, so. Alfred, What time is it?" I asked smirking.

"It's noon." He replied. "Now get up. We're going to go to the grocery store. Then, maybe if you're good, you can have ice cream after." I perked up at the mention of a frozen treat.

"Okay, I'm up." I said climbing out of bed. I hopped into the shower for a quick wash, then pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt. Pulling my converse on, I hopped down the stairs to meet up with Alfred.

"All dressed." I announced once in his line of sight. "What now?" I asked eagerly.

"Now, we're off to the store." He answered as he grabbed the keys off the table.

"Can we get juice?" I asked as we walked out the door. "We're out of juice. We need some more, preferable the cranberry-pomegranate kind, but failing that, juice _boxes _would be nice too." I rambled on as we pulled out of the gate surrounding the estate.

"Yes, Kristen. We can get some juice." Alfred chuckled, amused.

"Good."

The days passed quickly. Soon the fall semester of school started. I had applied to Gotham University last fall, getting in hadn't been a problem. I had gotten a scholarship, not that I necessarily needed one. Although I was quiet and shy, I was still a fairly good student. My lowest GPA ever had been a 3.85. I was majoring in Psychology.

I still had my twice-monthly visits to Arkham Asylum. Alfred had been all set to stop them one week, he didn't feel that they could help any more than they had. They probably couldn't have, but I wasn't sure I would be able to see Dr. Crane, or Jonathon as I started to call him in my head, if he had stopped the visits. I convinced him to let me keep the appointments until either Dr. Crane or I saw fit to end them.

My four years in college passed uneventfully, Bruce still hadn't shown up. Alfred had kept looking for him up until I turned 20. After two years he decided that if Bruce wanted to be found, we would find him, and evidently he didn't want to be found. Everything was the same day after day, week after week. Shortly after my 22nd birthday, just after I had completed the education I wanted, something changed.

Dr. Crane became more distracted, more jumpy. I was pretty sure something was wrong. Maybe he had met somebody, maybe someone was pressuring him into doing something. I know he was proficient at Chemistry, so he could have made a new drug or something. All I knew was that something had happened, and everything would change.

**A/N **_Also, as a side note, I don't post anything until it is at least 1,000 words so that could be a contributer to the not being very quick about posting. Just FYI._

_Thanks to all the reviewers, please review again! yay. Thanks. :)_


	4. I would appreciate it if you read this

You know, I had this whole entire thing written out and then BAM!. One wrong button pressed and it's all _gone_. I will try and recap what I had originally wrote, but I will not fully explain everything again.

I have come to the startling realization that I am lazy as hell.

I know, I know. You shouldn't be surprised. You should really come to expect it.

I don't really do things without a motivation to do them. I may have found the motivation to write again, but I don't really know. I will try to have something out for each of my stories by the end of July. I would say June, but I'm leaving on Friday to go out of the country for the rest of the month. There will be spotty internet and the internet I will have will be trying not to fail IB. (Last quarter, I almost pulled off failing ToK. Have no idea how I managed to do that. Ended up with a C because my teacher loves us.)

I'm just saying this because I feel that you should all have an update about the goings on of my mind. You know, I should start a blog. ... No. No, I should not. I just remembered there are supposedly cookies outside the front door. I need to go get them.

Anyway. I'm here. I'm waiting. I haven't abandoned anything. ... well... I haven't _really_ abandoned anything. I never truly abandon things. I have this painting from, like, 2 years ago that I still kind of work on. If I don't have something out by the end of July, you have full permission to head my lynch mob. Or write it for me. Either one works, really.

Also, did you know that the person that gave Vatican City its independence was Mussolini? That's right, the fascist Italian dictator gave the Catholic Church its own little city-state. Huh. I didn't know that before today and I still can't figure out why.

At any rate, the spacing on this site is weird and I have no intentions of fixing it or trying to work around it. Shoot me a message or a review or something if you have an opinion on anything. Like if I should rewrite anything, or scrap it all and start from scratch, or if you have something that you want to be written. And you think it's a small enough project that I can do it and not get completely sidetracked.

TOODLES! ;)


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